


Family Has Your Back, Especially When It Hurts

by Pineprin137



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Brief Mention of Vomit, Caring Dean Winchester, Deaf Character, Domestic Fluff, Episode: s07e02 Hello Cruel World, Episode: s08e20 Pac-Man Fever, F/M, Fluff, Headaches & Migraines, Hurt Sam Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Sick Sam Winchester, Sickfic, Worried Eileen, non-graphic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-04
Updated: 2019-08-04
Packaged: 2020-07-31 07:13:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20111197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pineprin137/pseuds/Pineprin137
Summary: Sam suffers from a migraine. Luckily he has an awesome brother and a loving wife to take care of him.





	Family Has Your Back, Especially When It Hurts

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Moonweaver30](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonweaver30/gifts).
  * Inspired by [When Mommy's Away](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18877345) by [Pineprin137](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pineprin137/pseuds/Pineprin137). 

> MoonWeaver, I hope this satisfies your auction request!
> 
> This can be read in conjunction with "When Mommy's Away" as they take place in the same AU. Eileen survives Season 12, she and Sam get married and have two beautiful daughters, Liana and Evelyn. They live in the bunker with Uncle Dean. 
> 
> Note: When Eileen and Dean are signing, I chose to use italics and leave off the quotation marks yet still use punctuation. There isn't a whole lot of sign language usage as I was worried about getting something wrong and the fic takes place at night so it's often too dark to utilize it.

Sam sighed and rested his temple against the cool window hoping it would help ease the throbbing. He woke up that morning with a mild headache, just a slight tenderness between his eyes that he assumed was from staying up so late. It was hard to believe that he and his brother used to take down demons and wendigos on only four hours a night. Now, almost two decades later, he found himself napping with the girls if he didn’t manage at least seven. Luckily, being retired meant that most mornings were lazy and he could sleep in all he wanted. Well, until two little girls jumped on him and begged him to make breakfast. 

He kind of wished he was there right now. Being his daughters’ hero simply by pouring the cereal and milk into their bowls, or kissing his wife good morning. Instead, he was stuck in the Impala with a worsening headache, tense, sore muscles, and a crick in his neck from sleeping in the backseat. Sam didn’t regret the time spent with his brother. They saved the world, met so many people there wasn’t a phone book in the world that could contain them all. 

The rewards hadn’t come without pain though. Both he and Dean had died and come back, been to Hell, Heaven, and Purgatory. It had been one hell of an adventure and from time to time they sat around entertaining (horrifying) young hunters who stopped by the bunker for supplies or refuge. Sam usually hung back, only offering up advice or correcting misleading lore while Dean embellished stories of Lucifer, God, and the Angels. His brother held back certain ones though. Dean never talked about being tortured in Hell and he left out the part about Sam drinking demon blood. Dean always checked with him before pulling out one of the early ones. Green eyes would meet hazel, a slight head tilt, followed by a subtle nod. None of the young hunters ever caught on to their silent exchanges but Eileen was fluent. She would choose that moment to walk over and ask her husband to help with the baby.

Sam didn’t mind. That time had come and gone for him. He would much rather stay at home curled up with Eileen or play with his girls than chase after a deranged spirit in a dusty train station. The only excitement he needed in his life was found in the four (hundred) walls of the bunker. 

The Impala rumbled over a pothole and Sam’s head bounced against the glass. He sucked in a breath and cursed as the impact radiated through his skull. 

Dean glanced over at him, “Sorry, Sam, I can barely see the damn road…” 

Sam squinted at his brother and realized that while he had been dreaming about being back home in the bunker the weather had taken a turn. Torrential downpour blurred the view outside into foggy shapes. The wipers were as high as they would go yet still struggled to keep up with the unending rivulets streaming down the glass. Dean was hunched over the steering wheel peering into the dark. They were going slow, not even breaching thirty miles per hour despite the vacant road.

Now that Sam had been made aware of the awful weather, it was all he could focus on. His senses focused on the storm raging around the Impala. Pellets of rain beating against the roof of the car. Each raindrop echoing in his head. He leaned forward so he could rest his head in his hands, massage his temples. Of course, today had to be the day when the boys skipped giving their medkit the usual once-over. There were no miracle migraine meds, no stomach soothers, not even a knock-off pain reliever. 

“Sammy? You okay?” 

Sam looked up for a moment before an intense flash of lightning had him ducking his head back down. 

“Yeah. Just a headache.” 

“You sure about that? Looks more like a migraine to me.” 

“I’m fine.” 

“Uh-huh. Well, when you decide you  _ aren’t _ fine, let me know so I can pull over, ‘kay?” Dean kept his eyes on the road but his ears tuned to his brother. Picking up every little sigh, keeping track of each moan and shuffle as Sam adjusted in his seat. Then about ten minutes later, the thick swallow, slow deep breaths, the brush of fingers tugging at long hair. Dean leaned forward and peered into the darkness, prayed Baby would get them home in one piece... 

“Ummm...D-Dean?” 

“Shit.” Dean cursed under his breath. It was raining cats and dogs, there was no way he could pull over now. 

“Sammy...I can’t pull over in this, Baby will get stuck in the mud. We’re almost home. Like fifteen more minutes. Can you hang on?”

Silence. Dean looked over. Sam was pale. His hand clenching the door handle so hard his knuckles were white. Dean’s heart broke. He hated seeing his little brother in pain. Hadn’t the guy been through enough shit in his life already? Couldn’t they catch a break, just this once? Dean watched Sam jerk forward and his instincts took over.

“The bag from the store is on the backseat. Can you reach it?” 

Dean watched out of the corner of his eye as Sam twisted around until he could reach the plastic bag. It still held a few leftover convenience store purchases which Sam promptly dumped out onto the floor. It killed Dean to see his brother so miserable and not be able to do anything to help. He took a risk and removed one hand from the wheel, placed it on Sam’s back. 

The younger man clenched his jaw and squeezed his eyes closed. Partially because he had no desire to see his lunch reappear, but mostly because the pain was so intense. Every sensation, no matter how insignificant, quadrupled in effect. The thunder was coming through a speaker shoved against his ear. The lightning was so bright white he felt he may go blind. The underlying scent of dirty clothes and sweaty men that he was accustomed to was now so overwhelming it made him want to puke. 

He dreaded throwing up while in the throes of a migraine. The heaving would cause his head to pound and his eyes to water. Sam’s migraines typically end with him curled up on the bathroom floor, crying in the dark while Eileen changes out cool damp cloths and keeps the girls from making too much noise. But in the Impala he couldn’t escape. There was no hope of drowning it all out. The motion of the car, the soundtrack of the storm, the pain in his head...it was all too much for Sam’s heightened senses. He leaned over the bag and puked. 

Dean rubbed Sam’s shoulder as he continued to get sick, wincing in sympathy every time he heard his brother’s pained whimper. It used to be a toss-up with Sam. He either cried because he hurt or because he felt embarrassed. But that was then. Embarrassment was a thing of the past now that Sam was a father. Sam was practically a walking target for his two girls. They peed on him, puked on him, covered his face with mud. His eldest niece, Liana, had even been brave enough to ‘make Daddy up’ with eyeshadow and lipstick. Even when Ladybug came to him with a bloody nose and accidentally got it all over Daddy’s shirt, Sam hadn’t flinched, not once. 

Sure, it had been a little tricky adjusting when Lia was still a newborn and Mommy, Daddy, and Uncle Dean were still trying to figure things out. There were a lot of slip-ups and almost-disasters, but almost four years later, they had mastered scheduling, sharing, bedtimes, and feedings all while staying available for novice hunters or old friends who needed the Winchesters’ help. It wasn’t unusual to find Dean entertaining the girls in the living room while Sam helped their guest find proper lore and correct weaponry down the hall. 

Being a father had helped Sam a lot in just going with the flow. Before he would have apologized over and over and then shut Dean out for a day so he could lick his wounds, but now Sam just did what had to be done and then moved passed it. Instead of trying to hide his sickness from his brother, Sam informed him he wasn’t feeling good, not always verbally but Dean could figure it out, and then dealt with it. 

“Hang in there, Sammy. We’re almost there.” 

Sam wiped his mouth on his sleeve and carefully tied the bag before placing it on the floorboard between his feet. He rested his head back against the seat until another flash of lightning had him scrambling to toss an arm over his eyes. He heard Dean sigh, then a click followed by the rustle of paper napkins and then something smooth and skinny was slipped into his hand. 

“Put ‘em on. It’ll help.” 

Sam gently slid the sunglasses onto his face and breathed a sigh of relief when they dulled the next flash enough that he could crack one eye open. His stomach was still unsettled though, his vision wavy and framed with fuzzy black spots. As long as he kept his eyes closed, the nausea was kept at bay and he could relax his tense muscles a little. Sam wanted desperately to be home, in his bed, curled up under the covers instead of in the car. The Impala was a stalwart beast who had served the brothers well, but even she couldn’t provide the comfort Sam needed right now. 

There had only ever been one person in his life who could do that: his big brother. Dean had always found a way to provide whatever Sam needed regardless of how low the funds had been or which podunk town they were staying in. He always knew how Sam was feeling even though he hid it or had the medicine in hand before Sam even asked for it. When he was really little Dean would even snuggle with him. Back before Dean became a teenager and stated,  _ ‘real men don’t snuggle, Sammy... _ ever _ .’ _ Dean usually gave in when Sam played up the pathetic sick kid look though and Sam took full advantage whenever he felt like crap. There was just something so soothing about being held and reassured that it would be alright. His brother always took care of him, always kept him safe. Whether it was when he was little,  _ ‘Go ahead and sleep, Sammy. I’ll be right here.”  _ or more recently, “ _ This is real. Not a year ago, not in Hell. I was with you when you cut it. I sewed it up.”  _ No matter what, Sam could always trust that Dean would take care of him. 

Sam heard a soft chuckle and looked up to see...a familiar smirk. Huh, he didn’t recall moving, but somehow he had ended up with his head on his brother’s thigh and Dean’s hand stroking his hair. Sam blushed when he thought about what they must look right now. Two over-forty men cuddling in the car during a storm. He suddenly felt like he was five again and turned his head towards his brother’s stomach in a lame attempt to hide his embarrassment. Sam clutched the back of his Dean’s flannel shirt (some things never change) and tried not to overthink it. Okay, yes. He was a forty-one-year-old man who was currently clinging to his big brother. But he was also sick and in pain and really just wanted to feel better. And Dean always knew how to make him feel better. Besides, it was just the two of them in the car. Dean wouldn’t judge him, there was no one else to witness this one moment of weakness. 

As if Dean could hear his thoughts, he spoke up, “It’s okay, Sam. You feel like crap and you’re hurting. If it makes you feel better, do it.” Dean kept his eyes on the road, but Sam saw a soft smile on his lips. “I don’t mind being needed once in a while.” 

Sam smiled against his t-shirt. Dean always knew what to say, what he really needed. It was one of the main reasons Sam argued when Dean tried to move out of the bunker five years ago. 

_ “C’ mon, Sammy. You’ve got Eileen now. You don’t need your big brother crowding the honeymoon crash pad. You two have a kid on the way now, Sam. You’re going to be a father, you don’t need me. I’ll just get in the way.”  _

Sam had been absolutely furious at his brother that night. Had even taken a swing at him.

_ “How can you say that, Dean! I don’t  _ need _ you? Are you fucking joking?! Of course, I need you. Who else is going to teach me how to raise a kid? And yes, I have Eileen. But just because we got married it doesn’t mean we expect you to move out. And we’re sure as hell not going to kick you out. I need you, Dean! I  _ need _ my big brother.”  _

In the end, Sam  _ and Eileen _ had finally convinced the older Winchester to stay. It had taken a lot of bribes and promises of kisses and hugs from Dean’s future nieces, but Sam wouldn’t trade their current living arrangements for anything. It just felt...right...to have all of his family under one roof. And boy did it feel right to have Dean whispering to him right now. Reassuring him that it would be okay while Sam hugged him and buried his face into soft flannel. And as much as he was sometimes loathed to admit, it also felt right riding shotgun in his big brother’s car.  _ _

As much as he wanted to get back to the bunker, to Eileen and the girls’, he missed the feeling of soft leather cradling him while his brother tested Baby’s limits. The hunting he could do without, but he never once regretted the seemingly endless road trip he and Dean had been on. There was just something about being in the car, on the road, laughing at Dean’s lame jokes, arguing over where to eat, begging Dean to turn the damn music down...it all felt like home. Although he was happy with Eileen, Sam knew that he wouldn’t be near as content without having his brother just down the hall. 

“Just take it slow, okay?” 

Sam opened his eyes to see Dean had opened the passenger door and was striding towards the door to the house in the dark. Sam sat up and blinked a few times before easing his feet to the ground and holding onto the doorframe so he could hoist himself out of the car. His footsteps echoed in the eerie void of the quiet garage as he made his way to the steps leading inside. He heard Dean’s voice and …something else. Sam strained to try and make out the words, figure out what Dean was saying, but it was a mistake. His head spun. It felt as though he were on a roller coaster, unable to find his equilibrium. His hand reached out into empty air and his foot missed the next step. 

Dean was suddenly there. Keeping him from falling backward off the steps. “Woah...Easy, Sammy. I gotcha. Just take it slow.” 

He grasped Dean’s shirt with his fingers, the subtle throb between his eyes grew to a gentle pounding, then quickly transitioned into a sharp jab. Sam groaned as his body got heavier, just the simple act of standing too much effort. The stairs disappeared, the cool air evaporated the intense pain in his head all that remained. He clutched desperately onto his brother, his numb fingers seeking a solid hold on reality. 

“Hey, hey. Sam. Sam! Look at me. Sammy, look at me.” 

Dean carefully grabbed Sam’s chin and forced him to look up. His pupils were dilated and his breathing was becoming erratic. Dean searched for any sign that Sam recognized him, but all he found was a scared little boy. A Sam Winchester migraine was bad enough. Adding a panic attack on top of it? Dean cursed whoever was listening and pulled his brother into his arms. 

“Okay, Sammy. Just... _ shit _ , we’re gonna breathe, okay? We’re just going to take nice deep breaths.” Dean took an exaggerated breath, it was surprisingly shaky. ‘Jesus, Winchester. Get it together,’ he thought. It had been several years since either of them had this happen. The last being the night Eileen went into labor for the second time. Dean was feeling a little rusty. 

“C’ mon, man. You gotta breathe.” He pried one of Sam’s hands from his flannel shirt and placed it flat on the black t-shirt underneath. “Feel that? Feel my chest rise and fall? I want you to focus on it. In and out… In… and out… ” Dean concentrated on keeping his breath even. “In… Out… Do it with me, Sam.” 

Sam’s hand twitched underneath his and Dean finally heard him take a staggered breath. It wasn’t deep, but at least he was trying. Dean heard the doorknob turn and peered over Sam’s shoulder to meet Eileen’s curious, concerned look. 

Eileen had been watching the rain pour down the windows in Sam’s ‘book nook’ while waiting for them to get back. She had been alerted to their arrival by the subtle vibration caused by the garage doors opening. The evening had drug on and Eileen was beyond ready to crawl into bed next to her husband, so she felt pretty relieved knowing the boys were home. Liana had pre-school the next day, Evie was teething, and the tv had malfunctioned so Eileen hadn’t even been able to relax with her favorite show. After an hour of fighting with it, she had finally given up and settled down in the book loft .

Dean had built it for them during Eileen’s first pregnancy. It was originally going to be a playhouse, but after discovering the father-to-be hiding away in it on several occasions, Dean decided to convert it into a quiet space for the new parents. The walls were lined with shelves and the floor cushioned by an extra layer of foam padding underneath plush carpeting. Dean had even made sure there was enough headroom for his gargantuan little brother to crawl in and get cozy with his favorite book. 

Eileen set her book down and removed the quilted blanket from her lap. She untucked her fuzzy sock-covered feet and crawled over to the stairs. She shivered as she descended into the living room, the iron railing cold against her hand. At the base of the short staircase, she yawned. Checking the clock on the wall she saw it was almost eleven. She chuckled thinking about how tired her husband probably was. He rarely stayed up past ten, whereas his brother usually crashed sometime around two or three after finishing a movie marathon or Netflix binge. 

She paused in front of the slightly open door to the garage and flicked the switch to turn the lights on when she saw the brothers standing at the base of the steps. Dean glanced around Sam and made a crossing motion with one arm while shaking his head. Frowning, she quickly shut the lights back off then tilted her head and tried to peer into the shadows. What were they doing hanging out in the dark, cold garage? 

Eileen couldn’t tell much from their body language thanks to the pitch dark, but it looked like maybe they were having what their late friend Charlie had christened a ‘broment’. According to Dean, that was the phrase the young woman had used to describe any moment of brotherly bonding, love, or comfort between the Winchester brothers. Eileen always felt uncomfortable intruding on such an intimate exchange between Sam and Dean, but she was rather paranoid about Liana waking up because of the garage doors. Although she couldn’t ever hear it herself, she had ‘listened’ to the boys complain about the rusty hinges on the heavy wooden garage doors enough times to know they apparently emitted a loud squeaking noise when wet. 

She stood for a few moments trying to figure out what they were saying or why they hadn’t come inside yet, but it was useless. She couldn’t see Dean’s lips clearly enough to make out what he was saying and Sam was turned away from her. She took two steps forward but stopped when Dean shook his head. Well,  _ now _ she was worried. She reached out a hand towards Sam’s back. Dean jutted his chin towards the door. Obviously, he wanted her to leave them alone. It hurt to be rejected, but Eileen understood that there were some things Dean would always understand better than her when it came to Sam. 

Like Hell. Or Lucifer. Or going to Heaven and realizing it isn’t all that people say it is. Eileen had only come into Sam’s life seven years ago when the worst thing was a bunch of pompous British idiots who thought they could take on the American hunters. She understood that the Winchesters had been through a lot together. They had saved the world, traveled between Heaven and Earth, Hell and Purgatory. Sam and Dean had seen so much more than she could ever imagine. Eileen had learned early on that sometimes it was best to let Dean handle whatever was going on with his brother, yet she couldn’t help but wish that she could be there for him too. 

Eileen’s eyes darted back to the two men when Sam suddenly went limp. Dean must have been expecting it though, he had braced for the extra weight and shifted so his good knee could prop his brother up. He bent down and lifted Sam up into his arms. Her brother-in-law simply stood there, still, quiet until she stepped inside. Only then did he follow her through the kitchen and down the hall to Sam and Eileen’s bedroom. She kept pace with Dean until he entered the bedroom. While he got to work lying Sam down and pulling off his extra layers, she bypassed the door and walked towards the bathroom. She still didn’t know what her husband’s affliction was, but there was one thing that always seemed to help, regardless of the problem. 

She opened the side cupboard and selected a soft cloth from the jumble of towels, toys, and toiletries filling the shelves. She took it to the sink and ran the water until it was slightly cooler than lukewarm. She held the cloth under the water until it was completely soaked through. She wrung it out and carried it with her back down the hall. Eileen paused in front of Liana’s door and peeked in. The little girl was sprawled on her bed with three stuffed animals hugged up against her small body, fast asleep. Eileen smiled and shook her head before gently closing the door and walking across the hall. 

Sam was curled up on the bed in his underwear and t-shirt. Dean and the rest of his clothes were missing. She walked up to her sleeping husband and kneeled down beside him. She carded a hand through his long hair and stroked the damp washcloth across his skin. At first, he shivered and turned his head away. But after a minute or two, Sam sighed and relaxed into the mattress. Once his body was completely limp, Eileen carefully laid the rag over his eyes. She rose from her position on the floor and saw Dean watching her from the doorway. He acknowledged her with a tired nod. They walked into the hallway and shut the door. As soon as it was closed, she began signing,  _ Is he okay?  _

_ Bad headache. Sleep.  _ Dean answered. He was exhausted and the act of signing a complete sentence was too much. Hopefully, Eileen would understand what he was trying to say. Dean had tried to learn sign language once Eileen moved in, but he hadn’t ever really gotten the hang of it. He knew how to convey basic commands and questions, but usually, Eileen just read his lips. She had assured him that it didn’t bother her as long as he faced her when he spoke and enunciated his words clearly. 

Eileen frowned and rested a hand on Dean’s arm before responding,  _ You should sleep too. You look awful.  _

Dean snorted and shrugged.  _ Tired.  _

She nodded down the hall at Dean’s door. _ _

Dean looked over her shoulder at the closed bedroom door. She saw the worry on his face and was quick to assuage any guilt or fear. “You will still be able to hear if he yells out for you. I will come get you if I need you. Get some sleep.” 

He slowly nodded his head as he thought about it then turned and walked down the hall and into his bedroom. Eileen crept back into the dark room and sat down on the bed. She checked on the still sleeping baby in her bassinet and then laid down next to Sam. She curled up next to him and laid her cheek on his chest. The cotton tee-shirt was soft against her skin and she felt the warmth radiating from him. Her husband ran hot so occasionally she would forgo fleece pajamas and just snuggle up against him. She missed having his arm around her, but this position would do for now. She prayed that Evelyn would sleep through the night. Because she couldn’t hear the baby cry, Sam usually handled night time duty. 

However, on nights like this, she was thankful for the mirror installed on the wall that showed Evie’s crib. The light attached to the side would flash if she started crying and the anklet the baby wore would cause Eileen’s phone to vibrate if she stopped breathing or her temperature spiked Eileen had turned off the flash alert before getting into bed, relying instead on the phone tucked into her pajama bottoms. If Sam truly had a migraine, the flashing lights would only aggravate his condition and the vibration had always proven able to wake Mommy up when needed. 

Sam turned in his sleep until he was facing his wife. She brought a hand up and ran it over his features, reassuring herself that he was okay. The bump of his nose, the slight drag over chapped lips, the coarse friction of new stubble. Then she reached down and trailed her finger over his hand until she felt the smooth cold silver of his wedding band. She tucked her head into his chest and slipped one leg between his. 

Sam woke to a dark room and his wife next to him. He assessed how he was feeling and was glad to find his migraine had lessened some. His head still swam when he sat up but the nausea had abated. He couldn’t really test his sensitivity to stimuli since it was pitch black in their silent room. He felt around on the bedside table for the glass of water and pills he knew would be there. After swallowing them down, he got up and walked over to the sleeping baby. He turned the flash alert back on and checked that her anklet was still properly fastened before smiling down at her and brushing a finger across her tiny hand. Then he crossed over to the dresser and slipped into a pair of sleep pants. He paused at the bedroom door and looked back at his sleeping wife, knowing if he touched her at all she would wake immediately. 

He made his way down the hall and poked his head into Dean’s room to find his brother passed out on the bed fully dressed. Sam shook his head and smiled, some things never change. He carefully removed his brother’s boots and jacket then covered him with the blanket lying in the armchair. 

“How’re you feelin’?” Dean was still half-asleep when he spoke. 

“Better.” 

Sam walked over to Dean’s dresser and pulled out a pair of flannel pajama bottoms. He handed them to Dean, “Thanks.” 

Dean quickly shed his jeans and pulled on the pants before sitting back down on the bed. He rubbed a hand over his face and squinted up at Sam, “Course. Going back to bed? You should get some real sleep.” 

“No argument here, man.” He walked over to the door and rested his hand on the knob, “Goodnight, jerk.” 

Dean snorted, “G’night, bitch.” 

With his brother taken care of, Sam next entered Liana’s room and knelt down next to her bed. Her hair was splayed on the pillow and her thumb was tucked into her mouth. He grimaced and gently freed it, tucking it around her stuffed cat instead. He untwisted the sheets from around one leg and kissed her forehead then rose. He swallowed against a mild wave of dizziness and closed his eyes. When he had regained his balance, he visited the bathroom and then returned to his own room. Eileen was sitting up against the headboard with Evie in her arms. She was gently rocking back and forth in the dull glow from the lamp on her nightstand.

Sam squinted in the dim light and felt slightly queasy. He sighed, looks like the headache wasn’t gone after all. He grabbed the small can from underneath the desk and set it down next to the bed before crawling in. Hopefully, he wouldn’t need to use it, but it was better to be safe than sorry. Eileen’s eyes opened when the bed dipped and she turned towards Sam. She couldn’t sign with Evelyn in her arms but there was no need. She and Sam had their own unspoken language. She tilted her head and creased her brow. He gave her a pained smile and nodded. She arched an eyebrow and pursed her lips. He sighed. He leaned forward and gently placed one hand against her head, placed a kiss on her forehead. Eileen adjusted the baby slightly so she could free one arm. She rested her hand on his cheek and pulled him into a soft kiss. Sam settled down until he was lying on his side facing his wife. She ran her fingers through his hair while he draped one arm across her lap. After two days of him being gone, it felt so good to have him snuggled up against her with one of their daughters in her arms. The headache would be gone by morning and then everything could get back to normal. Eileen and Sam. Dean and the girls. All back in the bunker. The way it was supposed to be. 

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time including Eileen as a major character so please be gentle if you notice any mistakes.  
I watched videos about Shoshanna as well as reviewed Eileen's mannerisms in the show. According to the website I checked, Eileen appears to have Sensorineural deafness so she relies on body language and lip reading as well as sign language so I tried to focus on that.  
If you found any references to Eileen HEARING something, please let me know and I will fix it. It was not my intention. 
> 
> *Also, I know that Dean wasn't signing properly. I did that on purpose because he tends to speak very succinctly when he is overly tired or upset so I assumed he would probably translate that into signing as well.


End file.
